Doctor's Orders
First Aid is currently behind his desk, reviewing the latest diagnosis and data extracts taken from 'Prowl'. Information scrolls down the screen, reflected in First Aid's visor as he tries to make heads or tails of it all. Things are pretty quiet in the medbay at the moment. Blurr's been lying in the repair bay for several cycles by now, having sustained injuries in the field that went beyond the skills of your average med tech. A request had been thus been put out for an expert to see to the more complex operations he needed--sooner rather than later. And since it seems that First Aid, and none other than First Aid...THE First Aid is simply sitting at his desk in medical looking as if he's doing basically nothing, one of the techs approaches him. "Um...Sir? First Aid?" he inquires. "Did you get the memo?" Maybe he hadn't. "We decided Blurr's gonna need an expert. None of us have much experience in the way of petrolex leaks from the central valve housing, so we thought we'd just stabilize him until you or Torque could see to it. Or that other new fembot, whatever her name is." Blurr's been lying in the repair bay for several cycles by now, having sustained injuries in the field that went beyond the skills of your average med tech. A request had been thus been put out for an expert to see to the more complex operations he needed--sooner rather than later. And since it seems that First Aid, and none other than First Aid...THE First Aid is simply sitting at his desk in medical looking as if he's doing basically nothing, one of the techs approaches him. "Um...Sir? First Aid?" he inquires. "Did you get the memo?" Maybe he hadn't. "We decided Blurr's gonna need an expert. None of us have much experience in the way of petrolex leaks from the central valve housing, so we thought we'd just stabilize him until you or Torque could see to it. Or that other new fembot, whatever her name is." Slingshot has arrived. First Aid is not doing nothing! He's alt-tabbing to the Minesweeper every so often. He hmms, tapping his faceplate with one finger. Alright, he thinks, there's a 1 box here which means one of these 2 squares has to be a bomb. The 3 there means that only 1 space around it is safe. Ah, but which one? He mouseovers both of them. The squares beckon to him, taunting him with their allure. Is it time to finally just guess? First Aid wonders. He hates having to do that. There's so much suspense involved and he always gets it wrong. Sighing, the Protectobot places the mouse over one of the squares and- Wait! If that 2 there has three spots available, BUT 2 of them are covered by the 3, then that leaves just 1 square around the 1 that must be a bomb! First Aid r-clicks, marking the spot as a bomb. He then clicks all around it, watching as each square dutifully confirms their safety. "Yes!" First Aid exclaims softly, giving a little fist pump. Then the techie walks by and First Aid quickly alt-tabs back. "Oh! Hey, Stretcher. Blurr, huh? Alright, let me pull up his file. I thought his central valve housing was supposed to be intact? Did you guys find something?" AV-8B Harrier II <'Slingshot'> is still in a lot of pieces. He's actually suspended from the ceiling right now, being rebuilt in Harrier mode by a few of First Aid's hoverplatform mounted medical staff. More or less out of the woodwork, the Aerialbot has a long way to go before he's in any shape to leave. Scorponok (and his own dumb ego) did a serious number on him. The Autobots speedster isn't the only one to have been deemed to require a specialist. Though in Mute's case that may be more because as he is in his cassette mode, and thus really really tiny (even smaller than the size of Mickey Rooney). And so he has sat, monitored as best the medical staff can on a med table. Slingshot isn't the only one who is here courtesy of Scorponok. Stretcher shakes his head in response to First Aid. Has he been playing games again? Sigh. "Well, figuring out what the exact problem is in a case like this one is almost half the challenge..." the tech replies. "The symptoms are so vague, and the leakage is hard to track--could be coming from almost anywhere in the midsection. Someone must've cleared it before they actually checked. Sorry about that..." A slightly annoyed look crosses his face. Spike Witwicky hops off whatever automated flatbed trolley frequents the med bay and heads in through the giant doors, tossing his coat aside. "Phew, it is /crisp/ outside! Okay First Aid," he pauses to crack his knuckles and roll his shoulders. "Haven't patched up anyone in a while, point me in someone's direction." First Aid looks up from his computer screen. Ok, so maybe the medical bay isn't as quiet as we were initially lead to be believed. Slingshot is getting a total overhaul, Mute is awaiting an expert in nano-tech, and Blurr's condition was apparently much worse than was initially believed. "Alright, lets see what we can do." The doctor stands up and flicks off his screen. "Stretcher, get someone over there to oversee Slingshot's rebuild. I'm going to make sure that valve isn't going to burst." The doctor pulls up to Blurr's medical slab. "Oh, and someone phone S- ah, speak of the devil." Aid snaps his fingers as Spike arrives. "I think Mute could use your comparatively small hands, Spike." Stretcher nods and barks off some orders at another group of techs. "Hey! You heard him, get to work! I mean, you're slagging me with that, right? We don't have time to play Minecraft! Or Minesweeper, or Mine whatever-it-is-these-cycles!" he says bossily, pointing at Slingshot. "Gotta keep our team in peak condition if we wanna win this war and not end up getting pulverized by Galvatron and his horde of psychos!" The techs grumble but get moving, though some of them might be overheard muttering about how Stretcher is such a bossy workaholic, or about how he's the 'Ultra Magnus' of the repair bay. "Ugh, he's way too intense to be in here," One of them mutters as they move to assist with Slingshot's repairs. Spike Witwicky is eying Blurr somewhat eagerly, until First Aid directs him to a... tape. Welp. "You got it. They're usually easier to fix transformed..." He climbs up a berth ladder and walks over to pick the black-blue tape up. Human tech has gotten pretty damn advanced in the recent years, so all of the holographic tools Spike summons from a nearby console look rather sci fi. Using some high-tech stylus with a coiled cord, he carefully opens the casing and realigns a few things while soldering others. Should at least get Mute conscious again. "Damn, someone ripped his tape out." Meanwhile, it indeed does appear that there is a leak inside of Blurr where Stretcher had mentioned. And he does look pretty bad. Pff, medics and their minesweeper games! "I think you'll find he has more than just a snapped reel," First Aid cautions Spike as he gets to work on Blurr. The poor speedster has lots of internal damage. Is that the sign of Blast Off's X-Ray blasts there? It just might be. The Protectobot works diligently to tech tech Blurr's tech until its tech is more teched than before. Every so often, the doctor looks up to see how Spike and the other medics are doing with their patients. Combat: First Aid expertly repairs Cybertronian Hovercar <'Blurr'>'s injuries. Combat: First Aid is able to repair some of Cybertronian Hovercar <'Blurr'>'s internal systems damage. Yup, there be tape having been ripped out of the erm well tape. As Spike opens him up and begins the delicate process of bring the tape back online, and after a couple sparks fly, Mute slowly comes online. the first indication of this though, is a nearby computer starts being wirelessly accessed, as Mute automatically begins backing up his intel. Business first it seems for the spy. AV-8B Harrier II <'Slingshot'> would be talking so much scrap right now, but no one has repaired his vocal processors yet. Weird how someone would choose to leave that part out. SEVERAL DAYS AGO: Stretcher hides a coupon labeled 'One Free Hang Out Session with Air Raid" in his desk. BACK TO PRESENT: Just completely weird. Spike Witwicky glances over at the computer, then back to the cassette. "Huh, maybe that's automated." A few minutes of working with his palm as his table and he's grabbing up his tools (with Mute) to climb down the berth ladder and head on over to his workbench proper. And it's a pretty disorganized one at that. The surface is covered in carpet swatches drilled into wood. Mute (and all of his parts) are carefully laid out, and Spike continues his delicate work with all manner of needlenose pliers and extremely narrow torches. "If you can hear me, you could make this a lot smoother by transforming," he eventually murmurs. Combat: Spike Witwicky expertly repairs Cassette Tape <'Mute'>'s injuries. Combat: Spike Witwicky is able to repair some of Cassette Tape <'Mute'>'s internal systems damage. The computer terminal continues to display various downloads. However as Spike requests Mute to transform it reports, verbally, "Unit transforming will impede in intelligence downloading." Spike Witwicky sighs, "I think the data can wait." The data transfer pauses for a moment, and then there are sounds as Mute struggles to transform. Slowly at first, though with increasing speed the tape unfolds, and grows to Mutes robot form. For a brief second Mutes face can be seen, a rather nasty would running down one sid through his optic. Then his face screen springs to life over his face and the downloading resumes as Mute lies back on the workbench, his body showing the same signs of damage his tape form did, only larger now. Unfolding and growing significantly, the tape transforms into Mute'''s robot mode. The hovercar quickly unfolds upward and outward to reveal the fastest terrestrial Cybertronian in the galaxy, '''Blurr! As First Aid works his magic, Blurr slowly comes back online, his optics flickering slightly before lighting up fully. He glances briefly over at Mute, then up at First Aid. "Did--didwegetanythinggood?'Good'asinworththe hellwewentthrough?Or...ordoweknowyet?" Kudos to anyone who can hear that once and make out every word. If Mute's conscious, probably him. "Atta' mech." Spike pulls out a drawer of larger tools and sets to work mending all of the odd stab wounds. Line by line, currents are restored, but it won't be painless, certainly as Spike pries out warped metal that had jabbed inward, right into vitals. "Yeesh, who was your dance partner, Motormaster?" Any superficial damage is left for last, he'll have to deal with a split screen until Spike can find proper replacements. First Aid shakes his head as Blurr wakes up and immediately goes into motor mouth mode. "I haven't seen any reports on it, Blurr, but if the data's on Mute then it'll have to wait until extracted." Prequel scene! The Protectobot gently motions for Blurr to look straight up again. "Try not to move too much. You were in pretty bad shape. What's the last thing you remember?" Motormouth mode looks like it's not going to stop for a moment, but then Blurr appears to calm down a bit. Mute's in just as bad of shape as he is, if not worse. "Uh...." The last thing he can remember? "Oh--Scorponok. Tail shock." he grimaces, either from the pain now or the memory of the pain from before. "Oh--yeah. I think Blast Off shot me, but I'm not sure. Everything's kind of unclear beyond that point." First Aid nods, "Thought I recognized Blast Off's handiwork here." He's fought the Combaticons more times than he can shake a stick at. "You're going to be fine, Blurr, but your recovery isn't going to be an easy or quick one. Here, I'm going to check up on Mute." The Protectobot walks over to where Spike is doing his work, silently asking him how it's going with just a look. As silent as ever, Mute simply remains still, letting Spike continue his work while also continuing to download the intel he obtained. It probably isn't helpful to be accessing a wireless network and working while someone is fixing him, but then Mute has intel to transfer. Spike Witwicky wipes his brow and leans back to look up at First Aid. "Something really wanted at his insides but he's not going to die on /this/ workbench. He'll be okay, he'd be even more okay if he wasn't trying to multi-task all over Teletraan." Wringing his hands, he starts to close things up again, welding mask pulled down before sparks bounce off his shoulders. Blurr shrugs and pushes himself into a sitting position once First Aid moves over to Mute to check up on his repairs. "Eh, a lot of people shot me. Which is good, because that was the point. Gotta let 'em land their hits if you don't want them to lose interest in you." "Mute, if you can hear me, please stop the download. Your safety has to come first here," First Aid says. He doesn't bother confiding in Spike that forcibly disconnecting the feed would be even /more/ dangerous, since the man would already know that. Here's hoping Mute does it on his own. Looking over his shoulder at Blurr, he motions for the speed demon to lay back down. Does nobody listen to doctor's orders anymore? At least a few moments pass as Mute considers. He's in Autobots City, no intel he has found indicates it is time sensitive (at least not within the next few hours). It would be nice to get Teletraan and intel at large working on breaking the encryption present on some files. But, a short pause shouldn't do any harm. And so he pauses the download for the time being. The only indicator of this is the screen of the terminal he was accessing halts and a box pops up saying 'PAUSED'. Spike Witwicky dusts his hands and gives Mute's shoulder a pat. He pushes away from his haphazard workbench to brief First Aid on the details of the repair, just in case his "style" complicated anything later. Though it's unlikely, Spike is pretty clean about his repairs these days. "You'll take it from here? I'll... see if I can find him more uh, tape. But he doesn't need it, I don't think." Blurr gets a salute. "Righteous work out there." Fireflight was last connected on Sat Mar 16 12:29:22 2013; that was 222d 4h 8m 57s ago. First Aid beams as PAUSED appears on the screen. "Thank you, Mute." He gives Spike a look. See? All you have to do is ask nicely. "Sure thing," he adds regarding taking over. "Maybe just pop by and see how the reconstruction effort is going on Slingshot? Fireflight keeps paging me every forty-five seconds asking for updates on his condition and when visiting hours are and what he should get for Slingshot from Metroplex's gift shop..." Blurr ignores First Aid's gesture, but nods at Spike. "Thanks...I just hope it was worth it." he sighs. "We took a serious beating out there." The courier glances down at his battered, energon-stained body. He finally notices Slingshot. "What happened to Slingshot, anyway?" Spike Witwicky does not look very pleased about having to deal with Slingshot. But he cannot say no to First Aid. No one can say no to First Aid. "Sure thing doc." Steeling himself, he puts on his best stern face and heads over to the obnoxious jet.